


Queens Are Poptart Thieves

by anythingbutplatonic



Series: Olicity Hiatus Road Trip Collection [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, seriously this is just really silly domestic fluff, to make up for how angsty the last fic was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4647603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutplatonic/pseuds/anythingbutplatonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity is very protective of her poptarts. Oliver doesn't understand why she needs to monopolize an entire snack food all to herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queens Are Poptart Thieves

“What are you doing?”

Oliver paused in the act of loading up the toaster to face Felicity, who was surveying him from the doorway of their small kitchen with an expression on her face that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Raisa, his old nanny, whenever she caught him trying to sneak food from the Queens’  kitchen as a kid. 

“Getting breakfast,” he replied, innocently enough. “It’s what people usually do in the morning. And it  _is_  the morning. So, I’m getting breakfast.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Oliver,” Felicity said, crossing the room in a surprisingly fast walk for someone who had, much his amusement, vehemently refused to go hiking with him not a few days earlier because “it was against her nature to converse with nature”. She grabbed the box he was holding. “These are my poptarts.”

Felicity was many things. She was smart, and capable, and funny, and kind. She was determined and loyal. And she had, for reasons he was still trying to figure out, even after more than a month of the open road and nothing in front of them but their next destination, chosen him. 

Oliver had never really believed in Heaven - though he certainly had some choice feelings about Hell - but being with Felicity came pretty close to what he imagined other people thought Heaven must be like. Easy. Carefree.  _Hopeful._

For the first time in more than eight years, Oliver was experiencing what it was like to have  _hope_. 

Felicity aggressively shaking the box of poptarts brought him back from his momentary reverie. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t realize we had to start labeling our breakfast foods. I thought that was a six-month anniversary type of thing,” he quipped. “And I was hungry.”

“But they’re  _my_  poptarts. Mine. Which means that they are off-limits to you. Just because we have sex on a regular basis now, it doesn’t mean you get to eat my poptarts.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her. “We were having sex on a regular basis before? Felicity, we weren’t even a  _couple_  before.”

“Oliver, how long have you known me?”

“Four years,” he replied immediately. “Give or take.” He couldn’t help but smile at that.  _Four years_. Four years of knowing this remarkable woman standing in front of him, the woman who currently had very impressive bedhead and yet was somehow still breathtakingly beautiful to him. 

But Felicity wasn’t finished. 

“Exactly. And, in that time, have you not noticed that I am very protective of three very specific things? Coffee, good WiFi connection, and poptarts.  _Poptarts_. The ones that you very inconsiderately stole from me and were planning on eating despite the fact that they are  _mine_.”

His smile widened despite himself. “Four years later and you’re still remarkable.”

Felicity huffed out a sigh and put the box on the counter. “Why do you always say things that make me forget why I’m mad at you?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“And your big ego,” muttered Felicity - but he knew she only half-meant it, because she reached up to place a kiss on his cheek, her hand warm where it rested just above his elbow. “I love you, but if you touch my poptarts again, you’re a dead man.”

“Noted.”

He watched her as she padded out onto the patio and stood in the warmth of the sun’s rays, where it was at just the right angle to turn her blonde hair golden. She turned her face to the sun, her head thrown back, and he could see the hint of a smile around her lips.

He put the box of poptarts back where he had found them. As long as she stayed by his side, he’d happily buy her a box every day for the rest of both their lifetimes. 


End file.
